Be My Baby
by Mara Greengrass
Summary: "By the end of most weeks, if Magneto offered to babysit I'd probably say yes, as long as he promised to wait until later to conquer the world." (#3 in the Baby series)
1. Jean's POV

TITLE: Be My Baby 1/2 (Jean's POV)  
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass  
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.  
CATEGORY: Gen, S/J romantic fluff  
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G   
SUMMARY: "By the end of most weeks, if Magneto offered to babysit I'd probably say yes, as long as he promised to wait until later to conquer the world."   
DISCLAIMER: The X-Men and the X-Men movieverse belong to Marvel and   
Twentieth-Century Fox and other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.   
NOTES: This takes place some unspecified time after "To Tame a Wolverine," but it's really a sequel to "Don't Wake the Baby." Thanks to Avi for explaining some things about guys, and making this more accurate. Any remaining misunderstandings of how guys think are entirely my own. Thanks to Askani'daughter for the beta, valiant spotting of unintended double entendres, and deletion of sickly sweet description above and beyond the call of duty. I promise *someday* I'll try a Scott/Warren fic as a thank you :)  
  
In case you're keeping track, stories in this series are: 1) She's Having a Baby...Maybe, 2) Don't Wake the Baby, 3) To Tame a Wolverine (interlude), and 4) Be My Baby.  
  
//thoughts//  
  
*********************************  
  
I originally went to our bedroom to take a nap. Scott was in conference with the Professor, and Jubilee and Logan had agreed to take Rachel off my hands for a few hours. I know Friday afternoon's supposed to be my mother-daughter bonding time, but it's not as if I don't see her all the time.  
  
Logan muttered something about how well babysitting worked out the last time, but, honestly, I was so tired I wasn't listening. By the end of most weeks, if Magneto offered to babysit I'd probably say yes, as long as he promised to wait until later to conquer the world.  
  
It had been an especially abominable week, filled with disasters large and small. If John wasn't burning down a garden shed, then Toad and Sabretooth were attacking postal workers. (I'm not kidding, postal workers, I still don't know why. Maybe they were bored.) And Scott and I were barely speaking to each other.  
  
It was a stupid fight, brought on more by exhaustion than anything else. Who knows the last time we had a full night's sleep, *and* we're trying to teach, *and* we're running around being the X-Men. But damn it, I was sick of being the one who always apologized, so I was going to wait him out.  
  
In any case, I wanted a nap. When I opened the door to our bedroom, I was determined to lie down and not move until dinner time. But one look around the room convinced me sleep wasn't going to happen. It was a disaster.  
  
I leaned against the doorway, assaulted by the smell of dirty laundry and dishes never taken back to the kitchen. I wanted to cry. You know, it's not as if I expected everything to be perfectly neat all the time, but surely the ability to see the floor wasn't too much to ask?  
  
There was no way I'd be able to sleep until I'd sorted through some of this mess. But where to start? Well, maybe if I sorted out the laundry and dumped it into the baskets, I'd feel better.  
  
I gathered up the dishes first, averting my eyes from the bluish-gray mold growing inside one glass. Ugh, I'm all for penicillin, but I prefer to buy it, not grow it.  
  
The more I sorted, the more annoyed I got. What did Scott think? That I was his personal maid? To hell with him, once this was done and I got my nap, he could sort out his own damn laundry. I made it to the window, and started clearing off a chair that I vaguely recalled was blue. I threw t-shirts onto the bed, uncovering a stack of books that never made it to the bookshelves. It was then I realized the futility of trying to clear everything out in one afternoon. I slumped to the floor and leaned my head against the soft cushion of the chair, accidentally dislodging the books.  
  
One bumped my head and landed in my lap, dropping a leather bookmark on the floor next to me and leaving something sticking out from between the pages. Curiosity made me open the book, where I found several small dried pink and white, three-petaled flowers, still emitting a summery fragrance.  
  
//Flowers?// I stared at the blooms in my hands in confusion. //Where did these come from? Oh, right, hiking in Northern California.// I lifted the flowers to my nose and inhaled, remembering that afternoon.  
  
**************************  
  
Scott and I were out west so I could attend a medical conference and somehow we found a few hours to get out of the city.  
  
Well, really he dragged me out of the hotel forcibly, because I kept insisting I was working. But once I got a look at where we were going, I was hooked.  
  
The sky was a shade of blue I thought only existed in paintings, so bright it almost outshone the sun, shimmering and nearly cloudless. The sun was high in the sky as we drove, and the air was so clear I could pick out individual pine trees on the mountain range in front of us.  
  
Scott drove the rental car through the twisty roads and I navigated. We wound up bickering amicably as I tried to figure out how the road matched our map. (You'd think a tactics whiz would know the map is *not* the territory.) Finally, we pulled into a half-empty parking lot, grabbed our water bottles, and strolled along the path through the redwoods.  
  
The air was cool, fresh, and smelled a little damp. The humidity was wonderful on my skin after the dry temperature-controlled hotel. I was a little cold and I wrapped my jacket tighter around me, but the cold didn't seem to bother Scott. (Men really do generate more heat than women, you know.) He put his arm around my shoulders and we walked like that for a long time, not really talking about anything in particular. We snacked out of a well-stocked knapsack, enjoyed the scenery, and soaked up the serenity that redwoods exude.  
  
As we wandered up and down hills and across streams, we saw a deer grazing, marveled at the age of the trees, and generally acted like a sappy couple in love.  
  
Scott fairly oozed contentment as we settled on a handy log to enjoy an especially lovely view, the sun slanting through a gap in the trees to fall on a small brook below us. I leaned my head against his and let my eyes wander. A small patch of pink down the steep slope caught my attention.  
  
I leaned forward to get a better look, surprised to see flowers in the dense woods. I pointed out the delicate blooms to Scott.  
  
"I'll get some for you," he said.  
  
"Honey, it's a park, you're not supposed to pick anything." I was surprised at the suggestion from my law-abiding spouse.  
  
He grinned that irresistible grin of his. "I know, but just this once, let's be reckless super-villains."  
  
He climbed down a fallen redwood, propped on the hill like a guardrail, about three feet off the ground. He inched his way down while I hovered up above. He made it to where the flowers grew, perhaps thirty or forty feet downslope, and leaned down to pick a few. I saw him pause, his hand amidst the flowers.  
  
"Jean?" he called quietly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"That sign we were looking at in the ranger station? Did it say that black widow spiders *do* appear in this forest?"  
  
"Scott!"  
  
He yanked his arm up, holding a few of the flowers. I heard a ripping sound, but it looked like he'd made it safely onto his redwood perch. Unfortunately, he was off balance and teetered right over the other edge. I automatically reached out with my mind and grabbed him, dropping him back on top of the log, and he held on tightly when he landed.  
  
He stared up the slope at me and I stared down at him. His hand still contained the small handful of flowers, which he waved at me. Then, I started to laugh and he started to laugh and he crawled up the log to land in my waiting arms. We giggled together for a long time, giddy with the silliness of it all.  
  
I pointed out the brand-new rip in his sleeve. "I hope this is your only injury."  
  
"Darn, I like this shirt." He frowned. "Oh well, it was for a good cause."  
  
"You'd sacrifice a concert t-shirt for me? I'm touched."  
  
His face became serious, and he stroked my cheek. "I'd sacrifice anything for you."  
  
I had to close my eyes, and we leaned against each other, minds linked so we could savor our love.  
  
I swore at that moment that I'd treasure those flowers, just as I treasured my relationship with Scott. That's why I pressed them into a medical volume I'd brought on the trip, so they would dry on the way back to Westchester.  
  
*******************************  
  
//How could I have forgotten that trip?// I asked myself, looking at the pressed flowers in my hand. So many things had happened in the intervening time, so many troubles, so much danger, and we hadn't always taken the time to remind ourselves we were in love.  
  
Rachel was born because we loved each other and wanted to share that love with a child. I sniffed as I carefully slid the flowers back into the book, and put it back on the chair. I reached out with my mind and found Scott was still with the Professor. I set out to grab a few things to ambush him with when he came out of the meeting.  
  
--continued in part 2 (Scott's POV)-- 


	2. Scott's POV

TITLE: Be My Baby 2/2 (Scott's POV)  
Other headers on part 1  
  
//thoughts//  
  
**************************************  
  
The Professor was trying to not mention my preoccupation. I'm not sure if he knew *what* was occupying my attention other than the report I was supposedly giving him on X-Men readiness and equipment status. Probably he did, but he hates to mention things he's read in our minds unless he has to.  
  
Anyway, Jean and I were fighting. Not anything serious, just the sort of arguments that come up when a couple are tired, cranky, busy, and have a toddler screaming her head off around them. Nothing that hasn't happened to millions of other couples around the world since time immemorial. But this was happening to me, and somehow knowing it wasn't unique didn't help at all. And of course, most of those couples didn't have to be superheroes in what was left of their free time.  
  
You'd think that having a semi-subliminal telepathic bond would help, but it doesn't. Turns out that when we fight, the bond tends to slip away. It doesn't disappear entirely, but it becomes less and less useful the more we need it. Isn't that just the way the world is?  
  
Sure, if necessary, Jean could read my mind, but that's not the same thing. And who the hell wants their partner diving into their complete uncensored thoughts at a time like that? Fortunately, Jean's been telepathic long enough to know better.  
  
In any case, we'd had a stupid fight, but there was *no* way I was going to apologize when I didn't do anything wrong.  
  
So, there I was sitting in the Professor's office, trying to give my report, tired and distracted by everything from the remnants of a physics lesson on the blackboard, to the flowers blooming outside his window.  
  
Finally, I gave up. "Sir, can we do this another day?"  
  
He smiled gently, "Certainly. I *had* noticed that your heart wasn't entirely in it. Is there something I can help you with?"  
  
"No." I paused, and rubbed the back of my neck. "I just...too much to do, I guess. If we can deal with this later, I can go grade some papers now, and try and get ahead of the game."  
  
"That's fine," he said. "Perhaps you might relax a bit."  
  
"Yeah, I'll try and turn in early."  
  
The Professor looked like he wanted to say something else, but was restraining himself by sheer force of will. Whatever it was, I probably didn't want to hear it, so I didn't give him a chance to change his mind. I got out of my chair and headed out the door.  
  
"See you at dinner."  
  
A few minutes later, I was heading toward my office when I heard the sound of my daughter giggling from a nearby room. I leaned my head into the lounge and saw Logan and Jubilee playing with Rachel. I watched them throwing a ball back and forth to amuse her, and then tip-toed off. //You know, if Rachel is here, maybe there's a chance I could get in a quick nap before dinner,// I thought.  
  
A pile of dirty dishes greeted me outside the bedroom, which slowed me down for a few moments. Then I shrugged and opened the door. Half the room lay in the same disorder we'd left it in this morning, and half showed signs of tidying.  
  
"Jean, are you here?" I leaned into the bathroom, but it was as empty as the bedroom.  
  
I stepped over a load of sweaters toward the bed, determined to get my nap. A stack of t-shirts lay on my pillow and when I reached to move them aside, I recognized the one on top.  
  
//Hey,// I thought, //I haven't seen my Tears for Fears shirt in a long time.// When I picked up the shirt, I remembered why I hadn't worn it: the long rip down the right side. //Huh. How did I do that?//  
  
I sat on the bed, looking at the jagged hole, until I remembered it was on that trip to Northern California. The memory made me laugh.  
  
********************************  
  
Jean spent five straight days running from meeting to meeting, tirelessly politicking, campaigning, and schmoozing, but Sunday was too beautiful a day to give up completely. So, I dumped her in the rental car and made her go with me. I think she agreed after I threatened to follow her around the hotel and serenade every meeting she attended.  
  
Driving the switchbacks through the mountains was as fun as flying, although Jean kept losing her place on the map and sending us in the wrong direction. But for once we weren't on a schedule, so getting lost was almost as much fun.  
  
After much toing and froing we found our way to a state park that, according to the guidebook I'd packed, wasn't very crowded. This proved to be the case, and we found ourselves practically the only visitors that day.  
  
Jean practically skipped down the path, her smile shining in the diffused sunlight coming through the giant redwoods. I couldn't remember the last time she'd looked so happy, or so young.  
  
I kept sneaking glances at her as we walked. She'd stuck her hair up in a loose bun, and bits of it kept drifting down, red streaks drifting against her pale skin. It was great to see her in casual clothes, jeans and a loose shirt. She spent so much of her time in her grown-up clothing, skirts and high heels, I'd forgotten how sexy she looked dressed casually.  
  
I started having fantasies of ripping off her clothing right there and then, which I stifled quickly. (I'm not much for exhibitionism.) She grinned--I think she caught the edges of what I was thinking--and put her hand in mine. I spent a few moments concentrating on thinking about something other than sex.  
  
We strolled up to the top of a steep slope and settled down to rest and take in the view. I was leaning back to try and see the tops of the trees when Jean leaned forward. She was looking at some flowers down the steep slope in front of us, definitely off the park-approved path.  
  
She looked so delighted to see them, that I cast caution to the wind and offered to pick some. She seemed flattered that I would break the rules just to bring her flowers, and I wondered if this was how people got started on a life of crime.  
  
I saw immediately that the only way I was going to get down that slope without leaving a big swath in the shrubbery was to crawl down a fallen redwood. The giant had fallen (according to the signs) several years before, and its summit rested far above our heads. The middle section crossed the path we had climbed and headed down the hill right through the center of the flower patch.  
  
//No problem,// I thought, //I've climbed much smaller beams in the Danger Room.// So, I clambered down the tree until I was hovering a few feet above the flowers. I lay down along the trunk and reached down to pick the flowers.  
  
It was just as I'd grabbed a handful that I saw the spider next to my thumb. I was moving slowly away, trying not to spook it, when I made the mistake of asking Jean if it was poisonous. She screamed, scaring the hell out of me and I nearly fell off the tree trunk.  
  
As I slid, I heard my shirt ripping, but I was a little more concerned with keeping my balance. No way I was going to survive the life of a super hero and then break my skull falling off a log.  
  
I was just regaining my balance when Jean practically pushed me off the other side with her telekinesis. I grabbed hold of the log with the hand not holding flowers, and mentally rearranged next month's Danger Room schedule to give Jean more practice.  
  
I took two deep breaths, then felt Jean's near-panic from above me. I sent reassurance along our link, looked up at her and waved the flowers I still held. The look of astonishment on her face was too much for me and I cracked up.   
  
Somehow I managed to crawl back up the tree, still laughing, and we giggled together for a few minutes.  
  
Jean looked a little worried as she checked me over for wounds, then relieved as she looked at my ripped shirt. "I hope this is your only injury," she said.  
  
"Darn, I like this shirt," I said. "Oh well, it was for a good cause."  
  
"You'd sacrifice a concert t-shirt for me? I'm touched."  
  
I held her against me, my heart full. "I'd sacrifice anything for you," I said.  
  
****************************  
  
//How could I have forgotten that trip?// I asked myself, kneeling on the bed remembering how much I loved Jean at that moment. Just then, the door to the bedroom opened, and she stood in the doorway, holding...a picnic basket? I blinked a few times, wondering when exactly I'd entered the Twilight Zone.  
  
"Hi," I said, unsure if I was somehow in trouble.  
  
She leaned against the door frame, her head tilted in unmistakable amusement at the look on my face. "Hi, honey," she said. "I was wondering, since we both seem to have a free afternoon, and Rachel's with her favorite babysitters, maybe we could go and sit by the lake and have a private dinner together?"  
  
I felt a rush of love come down our suddenly reopened mental link, and the brief scent of flowers. I grinned and slowly walked toward her. "Nothing would please me more," I said. I took her hand, and we strolled out the door.  
  
--end-- 


End file.
